By the Pricking of My Thumbs
by skampe
Summary: Morgause is not dying by the start of S4. Instead, she teaches Morgana magic and they set off to recruit magic users to join the army that will eventually overrun Camelot. Sisterly bonding!


Another for Morganafest. This is the first chapter for a longer story of undetermined length. After Morgana gets the hang of her magic, her and Morgause (who doesn't die from a boil disease) recruit an army of other magic users to take over Camelot. Which is what I thought they should have done. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognise belongs to the people who are paid for it.

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**By the Pricking of My Thumbs**

**Chapter One**

Morgause saw stars. Stars and spots and blooming flowers dancing behind her eyelids and a memory of being thrown against a pillar speeding to the front of her mind. That crotchety old man with the wiry hair and the limp shuffle towards death's door had, fairly embarrassingly, gotten one over on her. She fell into a self indulgent moment of melodrama where she truly wondered whether she might die. From the pain, or the mortification, or whatever warts-and-boils curse that coot had laced into his spell, she had little care. Especially if Morgana had seen her lose so spectacularly.

The thought of her sister was what prompted Morgause's eyes to flick open, mindless of the light or the surroundings or the throbbing pain that would shoot through her head when she did so. But there was little light, and she was alone in a bedchamber on a mattress into which it was far too easy to sink.

A hand pressed gently to her forehead. She was not alone. She tried to turn her head, but the long fingers held her still.

'You shouldn't move, sister,' came the lilting voice that without hesitation persuaded Morgause's muscles to relax and her eyes to drift closed again. Morgana was alive. Morgana was safe. Morgana was here with her. 'It's been three days, love. We are far from Camelot, they were too much for us. Perhaps it was foolish for us to attempt an invasion so soon. But the pair of us are alive, are alone here. No one will find us here. No one will worry us here. I will take care of you, sister.'

A crack in her voice through her last words made Morgause look to her, this time without opposition. Morgana's hand slipped down to cradle her cheek.

Her sister looked as though she had not slept for the full three days. Her cheeks were smeared with dirt, her hair grew matted and she hunched over the bed. Morgause did not know what scenario she disliked more, Morgana staying alert and worried by her side, or laying her head down beside the golden one and waking persistently through the dreams that slipped the bracelet's defences. The black that lined her eyes had smudged and faded, making Morgana look sullen and haunted, shadows weighing down her heavy eyelids.

Before their first attempt to overrun Camelot, there was a morning where Morgana came to meet Morgause in the forest. For this occasion, Morgause had allowed Morgana to see the hidden cottage she sometimes used as emergency lodgings. It was small, and dark, and infested with cobwebs, but it always felt like a warm and comfortable quilt to Morgause when she so needed to rest. Sitting by the fire, she fell into herself and forgot the world, almost forgetting their meeting until Morgana slipped in through the door. It was not merely the sound that drew her attention, but the gentle glow of Morgana's presence, that grew more instinctual in her the more often she saw the young sorceress.

They came together, as they could never resist doing, taking comfort in the touch of the other. Most days, Morgause could resist bringing them closer, only joining hands and gripping her sister's fingers tight. But today she felt peaceful and vulnerable, shut away in her little hovel, and brought Morgana into her arms. It fed her esteem, assured her, when moonlit arms squeezed around her waist and that delicate face pressed into her neck. She wound her arms around Morgana's shoulders and weaved her fingers into that silky, raven hair that so often drew her gaze.

As they separated, enough to see the other's face, Morgause noticed a change. The dark lining she herself always wore around her eyes was now replicated on her sister. Rarely had their connection truly felt like one of siblings, but in this moment Morgause felt the pride and fluffed ego of having a younger sister to admire her. This sweet, young girl standing before her had so much to come, so much to achieve that would bring the world to its knees and scramble to bask in her glory, but for now, all she wanted was to be like her older sister.

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Morgana wouldn't listen. Morgause felt fine. It was a minor head injury, not a decapitation, and she hardly needed to stay in bed longer than the two days she already had. When Morgana left in the late afternoon to collect herbs for a pain remedy, Morgause thought that might be her opportunity to get on her feet for at least a short time. But the sweet, sad pout she was given as her sister made to leave kept her bedridden out of guilt.

All she could really do was sleep, but she had been sleeping all day and most of the previous one, and would need to be knocked on the head again to rest any more. There were a pile of books on the bedside table, but not even the ornate tome with drawings of great dragons could sate her boredom. What she wanted to do would probably disappoint Morgana more than wandering, but this at least might distract and impress her enough to sneak it past.

She waited for a few minutes more, just to be sure that Morgana had left, before raising her hand to chest height. She didn't even have a particular spell in mind, just needed to release some of the magic building inside of her. She pushed it out through her fingertips and threw sparks at the wall opposite her. Swirls of red and gold bloomed in the centre, stretching out into spirals that intertwined and spread to fill to the corners of the wall. The sprawling colours shone brightly against the grey bricks, bathing the dull room in a warm glow that instantly had Morgause feeling calmer, softer, more relaxed. She twisted her palm towards the ceiling and pushed a burst of sparks upwards. The white dots hung in the air, scattered like stars around the room. Morgause laid back and soaked in the warmth of the magic glittering around her.

She laid there until the door opened and the bed sunk with the weight of Morgana arranging herself next to Morgause. The younger woman snuggled close so that their heads were touching and their finger interlocked.

'You couldn't resist, could you?' Morgana asked, the soft sigh in her voice betraying the reprimand the words might have otherwise held.

'It builds,' Morgause replied. 'Once you tap into the magic, it is difficult to stem the flow of it for too long.'

Morgana stayed silent for a moments. 'I think I feel it building.' Morgause turned on her side to face her sister, though Morgana remained on her back, watching the stars float on the ceiling. 'There were times after I woke from a nightmare- a vision- that I was so scared. It grew so strong I could feel it under my skin. I thought it was fear, but it was magic. It was power. Once I lit my chambers on fire because I couldn't hold it in.'

Morgause had been delaying the beginning of Morgana's magical tutelage. Most of the year they had spent together was taken by nursing her sister back from her poisoning, and the rest spent planning and plotting and making nice with Cenred. She always claimed to be too busy, that it was not the time, that Morgana need not bother herself with such matters quite yet. She had to focus on the role she was to play.

But recently, the young seer had perked up more whenever watching Morgause cast spells and brew potions. She was hungry to learn, to understand the magic fighting to burst out of her. In part, Morgause could hardly wait to see the beauty her sister would create with her magic, but was unsure that she would be fit to properly teach her. Most of the magic she learnt she taught herself, and had spent nights lying awake thinking of how to explain it to Morgana.

She needn't have worried. She was aware. Knew that Morgana would take to it like a knight to his sword. And the time had arrived.

She let out a deep breath. 'Then perhaps it is time for me to teach you, Morgana.'

Morgana twisted sharply to look at her. 'Really? What if I'm not ready?'

'You are blessed, sister. Your magic was born into this world when you were. It is a part of your being. You yourself have said your visions began before you can remember. You have always been ready.'

Morgana pulled herself up to sit cross-legged on the bed. She straightened her back and clasped her hands in her lap, a look of fierce determination crossing her face. Morgause could not help but laugh. 'I admire your focus, sister, but you will need to be relaxed to begin.'

Morgana blushed slightly and let her shoulders fall from their rigid position. 'Just get on with it, would you?'

Morgause huffed and arranged herself opposite Morgana. 'You are officially my student now, so I think you should treat me accordingly.'

Morgana raised one eyebrow and a smirk blossomed over her lips. 'The last teacher I had was Geoffrey of Monmouth, and I put a sleeping potion in his tea so I could sneak out and sword fight with Arthur.'

'Well, maybe treat me like the big sister you adore so much, yes?' Morgause said, laughing. 'Come on, let's start.'

She grabbed Morgana's hands and held them over their nearly touching knees.

'Certain emotion will create certain magic,' Morgause began. 'Fear and anger creates chaos and destruction, but that's not what we want today. Think of something happy, let it consume you.'

Morgana closed her eyes. Once her breathing had evened, Morgause flipped her right hand so the palm was pointed upwards.

'Now draw the light you can from the image and repeat after me. _Léoht_.'

Morgana breathed the spell and her eyes snapped open. There, hovering just above her upturned palm was a tiny ball of light.

Morgause smiled. 'Good. Now let it grow a little bigger. Don't force it, let it happen naturally.'

The light swelled under Morgana's stare, but continued to grow bigger than expected. Morgana squealed and dropped her hand, and the light extinguished. She hastily looked up at Morgause, who immediately rejoined their hands and stroked her thumbs over Morgana's knuckles.

'It'll take some time to get used to, do not worry.' She pulled them back to lean against the pillows. 'You have to learn your own strength.'

'But what if it gets out of hand before I can? When you were injured, I couldn't control it. I couldn't control my fear, my anger, and the room collapsed! The windows shattered and the floor trembled but I couldn't stop it. I can't remember escaping from there, only opening my eyes when the rumbling stopped and finding us outside of these doors. I was so scared, Morg.'

Tears had begun to roll down Morgana's pale cheeks, and Morgause wrapped her arm around her sister's slim shoulders. Morgana turned her face into the older woman's collar, clutching at the loose fabric of her tunic that bunched at her waist. She mumbled something into Morgause's skin that made her shiver. 'Pardon, sweetheart?'

Morgana took a breath and pulled back enough for her voice to be clear. 'I don't know how I could do this without you, Morg. If you were gone, victory would mean so much less. How could I enjoy the freedom of living without you there to celebrate with me? You can't leave me Morgause.'

Morgause dipped her head down to kiss her sister's hair. 'I will never choose to leave you, Morgana. But you must promise to stay with me too. You cannot know how lonely my life was before I found you. We are together in this. This is not your battle alone, nor mine. It is for us, and for all of our kind.'

Morgana laughed, sat up and grasped Morgause's cheeks. 'We will be glorious, love. But I think those are enough tears for today, let us get you out of bed!'


End file.
